Hard Wars Create Hard Leaders
by Aquacat21
Summary: During World Wars One and Two, some of the greatest and worst leaders were formed. Sure, we civilians see them as tyrants and martyrs, but how did their countries see and interact with them? Read to find out. Multiple chapter story. Warnings: a little bit of blood and cussing. T to be safe
1. Churchill

**A/N: Just wanted to make a story of the countries and their World War Two leaders ^~^. Gonna be in a different chapter for each leader… I've always been in love with the World Wars and General George S. Patton :3. I think he's awesome, personally. Now then, without further ado, this new little story of mine starting with none other than the UK!**

Arthur pants heavily, sweat mixed with blood dripping from his face as he tries to resort the boulders of fallen building from the small girl trapped underneath. She's crying out gently for help, voice barely above a whisper.

"Hold on, it's going to be alright," Arthur told her reassuringly, pulling yet another thick rock from the pile of debris. In the distance, the faint hum of the air raid warnings can be heard. "I'll get you out. Just hold on for me."

"Help me, please help…" the child cried, now able to be seen just alittle to the British country. "I want Mommy and Daddy."

In the distance, airplanes could be heard flying towards them. England can feel panic snake into his chest as he pushes more rubble from atop the girl.

Finally, after what seems like hours, England pulls the last piece of rock separating him and the girl is pulled off. The girl instantly darts off and England sighs in relief when he sees no injuries. "Come with me," he said gently, making a soft face. "It's dangerous out here."

"Will you take me to Mommy?" the girl questioned, hugging a teddy bear to her small chest. At England's nod, she grabs one of his hands with all of the strength she has.

England leads the way towards the subways he's grown to know so well during these harsh bombings from the Germans. He's actually grown quite accustomed to the pain of each bomb dropping onto his 'heart'.

Just as he and the girl reach the safety of a subway, the first bombs are dropped, causing the girl to scream loudly in fear. Her grasp on England's hand tightens considerably as well as her hold on the now dirty plush bear. It's oce guessed white is tangled in thick brown clumps. Ash riddles it's long lost soft fur. It's button eyes hang loosely from single threads and it's ears are threatening to fall off.

The ground and ceiling rumbling, giving warnings of possible fallouts. England leads the girl down into the packed subway, both avoiding stepping on people huddled on the ground. Loud and fearful chatter fills their ears, drowning out the loud explosions taking place above them.

"Mommy!" the girl suddenly shouts, letting go of her country's hand and running through the crowds.

A tall woman who had been talking to a group of people looking desperate suddenly looks at the girl. Her eyes widen and a wide smile makes it way on her lips as she bends and hugs the girl. She looks up over her daughter's shoulder and mouths 'thank you' to England.

England smiles back to her, forgetting the pain attacking his heart for a moment. Then, he bends over, gasping quietly as he tries to compose himself. _It burns_. Bloody hell _it burns_.

After a few minutes of this, England stands, taking a deep breath. He pushes the pain to the back of his mind as his eyes scan the everyday larger crowd of people. His eyes land on the most unlikely person to be here.

Prime Minister Winston Churchill. He's standing in group of people, talking merrily and casually. He shouldn't be here, he should be somewhere safe.

Well, then again, even if Churchill were forced back to his office, he'd just find his way back out onto the streets, England realizes. That man is to hard headed, stubborn, and full of a strong sense of ego. Ever since he'd fought in the Great War he's been like that.

England takes a moment to ponder over the type of man Churchill is. Like stated before, he's stubborn. Not always the best case in every scenario, it does come in handy. For example, he won't let Hitler defeat his great nation. And, he won't let them scare Great Britain in submission or scare him into hiding. He's going to continue fighting and continue going out for strolls to show his people he is not afraid.

England smiles. he hasn't had this great of a leader since King Arthur.

He's then suddenly called. His attention snaps to said leader calling his name. He walks over to the now alone Churchill.

"Yes sir?" England questions, feeling a slight burst of pain in his chest as yet another bomb hits the ground.

"How are you feeling?" Churchill asked, looking over the country for any wounds.

"Uh, quite alright, sir," England responded.

"Are you sure?" Churchill pressed. "These bloody bombings are most likely terrible for your health and I don't want you dying on me."

"Yes sir," England said once again with a nod before smirking. "And do not worry. It will take much more than this to kill me."

"Of course it will," Churchill said, voice suddenly raising a little in good heartedness. He chuckles and England smiles.

Suddenly, it grows quiet outside. Churchill looks up at the ceiling, face one of wonder. England follows his gaze to look up as well.

"I think it stopped," Churchill said, looking back over at England. "It stopped! Ha! Come on, Arthur, lets get out of this hellhole!"

Churchill then waddles up the steps quickly and happily, laughing and saying something about, 'damn Germans!" the whole way up.

England stares up after him for a few seconds before shaking his head and smiling a little. He follows up his enthusiastic Prime Minister up the steps.

**A/N:**

**Thoughts?**

**Also, I don't know if you're supposed to capitalize prime minister or not sooo, yeah...**


	2. Stalin

**A/N:**

**So, I was going to post Hitler and Germany first. But, for my first reviewer, ****Krasavitsa, I've decided to do this one before the other for ya. Thanks for reviewing and I hope ya enjoy ^~^**

Russia sits outside in the cold, occupying a small bench out in the middle of the snow. He sighs heavily, watching his breath puff out in front of him. His violet eyes turn to look at the building his current boss, Joseph Stalin, is in. Most likely watching ballet or sitting still for a painting to be done.

Russia looks down at the white snow he'd grown up in his entire life and kicks it, making that soft crunching noise snow always does. He really doesn't know what to think of the war. It's the second in not even a generation. And, of course, it was in Europe. Right outside Russia's front door so to speak.

A cold breeze brushes against Russia, sinking past the protective layer of thick coating and into his bare flesh. He shivers, hugging himself. This has been one of the coldest winter he's ever known. Luckily, it had come early. Germany had suddenly invaded Russia, attacking with full force and abolishing the treaty.

Stalin had been furious, blaming a few of the men in the room at the time and sending them to one of the Siberian camps. They'd cried out in fear a disbelief as they were taken away. Russia had watched through wide yes. But he says nothing, afraid for his own safety. Stalin sent shivers down the spine of the country he'd conquered.

Russia fears Stalin deeply. He even agrees with the name he has, knowing the man is pretty much made of steel. He doesn't let Russia think, have freedom. Russia wishes he could so something, anything, to stop this power hungry monster. But, he knows he can't. This is know his boss- and he has to listen to said man.

Russia looks up at the sky and watches the gray clouds gathering above head. Why him? Why do all of the bad people always choose him? Tears form in his eyes and he squeezes them

tightly to stop the water from leaking. He just wants some friends…..

But, that's never going to happen, is it?

Russia looks up when he hears someone walking across the uncovered path. He stands upon seeing it is his boss.

Stalin comes to a stop in front of him, surprising the country when he smiles.

"How would you like to go fight." Stalin said and Russia knows it's not a question.

"I would like to," Russia told him. No, he doesn't. Everyone already sees him as a bloodthirsty monster.

"Good," Stalin's smile widens if a only a little. "Because you're going tomorrow. You are to help the Americans and kill every German you see. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Russia said, not knowing why he'd be helping America. Stalin obviously has a dislike for them.

With that, Stalin says no more. He turns and continues walking through the thick snow, leaving Russia to his misery.

**A/N:**

**Sorry if it's a bit short. And I hope I did a good job of writing Russia and Stalin. I've always seen Russia has someone who doesn't really like what his 'evil' rulers are doing. Also, I'm going to begin posting every chapter every Sunday. Well, enough said. See y'all next time ^~^**


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